


Reddie- I Can’t Live Another Life

by inkgoblinz



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Eddie dies but he comes back just like their scars from the bloodpact healed, Fix-It, M/M, Major development for both Eddie and Richie, That shid hurted Alexa send tweet, instead of a fluffy pining fic this is just gonna be a huge reality check, just some sad old men who fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-09
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-01-26 10:24:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21372616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkgoblinz/pseuds/inkgoblinz
Summary: The depths of Derry were dank, wretched, and frankly just scary. It was the last place Eddie would hope to wake up, yet there he was. He inhaled sharply, so sharply that his whole body jolted forward and he gained consciousness with a shout. He looked around frantically, trying to obtain recollection of what got him in this situation, and he remembered. A hand was brought hesitantly to his chest, and he patted around for any form of a wound. Nothing.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak & Richie Tozier, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 20
Kudos: 122





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am again, writing another reddie fix-it fic. This one is gonna be rlly sad but like, realistic. Basically Eddie does die but since the loser’s hand scars from the blood pact heal when It dies, so does Eddie’s wound. I think there’s gonna be six chapters but I’m not entirely sure, we’ll see, hope y’all enjoy this one!

“Richie, ho-honey, he’s dead.”

Beverly’s words did something to Richie’s psyche. What was once determination shifted to complete and utter denial. He had just seen this scenario in the Deadlights, it was like some insanely fucked deja vu. He could’ve prevented this, why wasn’t he quick enough? All he could think to do in this moment of shock was grip the lifeless figure. The Losers would have to pry Richie away from Eddie cold, dead pull. Richie kept repeating in his mind, _ This isn’t real _. 

All of those days spent throwing rocks at the Kaspbrak’s residence’s window just to see those doe eyes glare at him, all those cups of hot cocoa post snowball fights next to a Christmas tree in late November, every instance where their legs pressed flush against each other which made Richie’s ears ring, it was all for not. Richie’s life had become a stagnant pool of loneliness and confusion. It began again once he got Eddie and the others back, and now he lost it for good. He might as well be dead amongst the rubble, and God did he fight against their grasp to get back to Eddie’s side. He would rather have the same final resting place as the person he cared for most in this world than go on without him.

“No guys we can still help him!!” Every protest was choked out as he was dragged out of the cavern. At moments, he had to comply and run with his friends just so they didn’t die trying to convince him to follow. 

The Neibolt house caved in, as if the earth opened its mouth and swallowed a pill. It all happened so fast, Richie was still fighting against Ben and Mike’s grip long after the dwelling was gone underground. The street was uncomfortably quiet compared to the calamity that had just ensued. Now, the only sound was Richie.

“Eddie!!_ Eddie!!” _

It was almost taunting that they chose to go to the quarry next, as if the universe was waving their lives in their faces, poking fun that they could never go back to the best moments of their childhood. Playful roughhousing in the murky water was replaced with five broken adults just attempting to wash themselves in a last ditch effort of comfort. Richie didn’t know what to do, he sank down into the water, his hands visibly trembling. He thought, _ Glasses, let’s start there. _

The combination of dude musk and sewer filth had created a grimy film over the glass. A small blood stain over the right lense was a nice touch, he wasn’t sure when that got there but he could ballpark who it belonged to. Richie blinked, and the image of Eddie’s chest going Bishop of Aliens 1986 wouldn’t leave him be. A wave of nausea hit suddenly and he dropped his glasses. He was able to shake off the feeling, but wasn’t strong enough to notify the others that he just lost his specs. 

“You know, Eddie would’ve hated this,” Ben broke the silence.

Richie agreed to that statement mentally. He would have hated this. The guy couldn’t even cross a stream without taking off his shoes and cuffing his pants. It was a miracle when the Losers were able to convince him to spend a day at the Quarry, he would always create a sanitation regimen post every trip. If he were here he would be having a fit. God, if Eddie were here. Richie wished he was, he wished he could watch Eddie have that fit and bicker along with him. 

The others continued reminiscing like they were poking at an open wound. Richie couldn’t take it, and he began to weep. A small keen escaped his throat, which was a new sound for him. When Richie cries, it’s never so helpless, it’s always more of a hollow, quiet type of sob. This cry was helpless, hopeless, and grieving the one thing he needed most in this world, his first love. It was that noise that notified the Losers of his tears, and one by one, surrounded him in a careful hug. Richie reached out and clung to whichever of his friends were closest. He mouthed _ I miss him _, unaware that no sound could escape his mournful breakdown. His eyes were squeezed shut, and when he opened, he saw the blurry outlines of a bunch of losers. No words needed to be said, they knew all too well where his woe was coming from. Hell, they grew up having to watch two boys pine after each other stupidly. They weren’t unaware of the special bond that they had, especially Beverly and well, Stan. 

Richie sniffled, “Thank you…”

They decided to regroup at inn they were staying at, i.e. get showers and get some well deserved rest. The journey from the quarry back to the inn was a blur, and then the trip up the building’s stairs felt like slow motion. Richie was clearly dragging, and hadn’t said a word since the quarry. The others mentioned to maybe have a drink before they go to sleep, but Richie pretended like he didn’t hear and made a beeline upstairs. 

He stopped in front of his door and listened to his friends downstairs who were laughing, which made him understandably livid, then turned to Eddie’s door. He glanced at the blood on the wall from the Bowers encounter, then walked inside. It wasn’t much, but pieces and remainants of Eddie were scattered about. Everything was clean, but Eddie was not an organized person. He was frantic, anxious, and it showed in how he packed his suitcases or how he always brought wet wipes with him. An open pack of wet ones sat on the bedside table, but Richie didn’t have the hope to investigate the implications of what that meant. 

He sat on the edge of the mattress. The room felt haunted, as if he was the ghost. He needed to cry, but there was no moisture left in his body. He let himself lay back against the cotton sheets. The back of his neck hit something cool, and he shot up. To his realization, it was the zipper of a grey hoodie. Eddie’s. He took it with shaky fingers and put it on with surgical precision. This was the last piece Richie had of Eddie, he thought. 

Like a cheerleader wearing her boyfriend’s letterman, he brought a handful of the fabric to his nose and inhaled. It still reeked of Kaspbrak; scented candles and office buildings mostly, with a hint of cigarette smoke. The nostalgia brought Reddie back to the summer of ‘89, during the falling out, and he remembered another piece of Eddie he still had. Richie zipped up his jacket, and went off to visit the kissing bridge.

The depths of Derry were dank, wretched, and frankly just scary. It was the last place Eddie would hope to wake up, yet there he was. 

He inhaled sharply, so sharply that his whole body jolted forward and he gained consciousness with a shout. He looked around frantically, trying to obtain recollection of what got him in this situation, and he remembered. A hand was brought hesitantly to his chest, and he patted around for any form of a wound. Nothing. He laid back onto the stone as his eyes adjusted to the scene, breathing steadily. 

Eddie could barely see where he was, but there was enough light for him to realize how his surroundings have changed since he was last awake. The cavern was closed off from where the main action occurred, where they attempted the ritual, and a hole the size dollar coin let in distant sunlight from god knows where. 

His claustrophobia was repressed just from the realization that somehow he was alive, and he didn’t know where his friends were. Eddie actually felt kind of invincible, yet ironically he was sitting in his own grave. He thought back to his last memories before his little accident. Richie was by his side during the whole fight, and watching It get a hold of him was like someone holding a gun up to everything he held near and dear to his heart. On a whim, he struck the beast down. There was nothing that could compare to the triumph he felt in that moment. He remembers running to Richie’s side, and the joy he felt when Tozier blinked back into reality. Then the pain. The agonizing, sharp pain. Eddie shook his head, and he stood to his feet. For some miracle he didn’t understand, all the pain was gone. He was fine, but he didn’t know what to do, so he started there, getting up.

“Guys?”

He called out and his voice echoed through the cavern. For a moment he was scared he would die of either starvation or dehydration before he could find a way of escape. He shifted forward, and a small rock bounced off his boot. The sudden noise of a stone being skipped down the hill made him jump. It landed in what sounded like water with a sploosh. Eddie raised an eyebrow, and followed the noise. 

Apparently, the destruction punctured a hole in the walls of the cave that bled out into the sewer system. Eddie didn’t know where in the sewer system it was or how to leave, but he knew one thing. He had a way out, he had a fighting chance. He stepped down into the murky water and gagged to himself. His tongue brushed the inside of his cheek and noticed that the knife cut was gone. Eddie started down the sewer tunnel and thought how a lot of things in Derry never really die.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie chuckled a little, then hung up the phone. His smile faded once he was faced with the harsh reality that existed in his room. It was going to be hard, but he was going to have to be okay.
> 
> ***
> 
> If Eddie wasn’t malnourished, he would have thrown up by now. He was a dead man walking, a ghost, he shouldn't be alive. It was a photo finish, beautifully tragic like Shakespeare, so what the fuck was he supposed to do now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two babey! I’m gonna try to post a chapter a day but we’ll see how that goes lmao. I have no clue what Richie’s manager’s name is in the movie, but in the book its Steve, thus the name choice. I don’t have much else to say besides I hope y’all enjoy this chapter, stay tuned for more I’m busting this shit out very quickly

Richie left Derry that night. He had to get out of there ASAP, too many painful memories were in Derry. Too fucking painful to watch Ben and Beverly gaze into each others eyes, and the others joke around them. Every street corner was a reminder that Eddie was gone, it was too much to handle. He took a red eye back to L.A. and tried to sleep on the plane. He couldn’t. 

It was now two weeks later, and he paced his bedroom, phone in hand, sleep deprived, dressed in nothing but Eddie’s sweater and a pair of boxers. He reeked of a man who hasn’t seen sunlight or showered in days, because he hasn’t. His apartment was beginning to look like a basement dwellers layer, but with more empty beer cans. There was little to no circulation, and the smell of Cheetos and McDonalds was beginning to settle into the carpet. The visual image of depression was prominent, and Richie knew this. The receiver finally picked up.

“...Rich?”

“Hey Steve, I uh-“

“Where the ever loving fuck have you been??” His manager sounded groggy, but his concern was clearly waking him up.

“I told you I had some business back in my hometown.”

“You up and leave the night after you totally blow your last show, and don’t contact me for almost a month!! What gives man???”

Richie’s didn’t know how to break it to him that he had to fight a clown demon from outer space without sounding like he was on shrooms. He looked around his room and hated the state it was in, and hated himself for letting it get to this state.

“A good friend of mine passed,” Richie finally said, “Stanley Uris, he was my best friend growing up.”

Steve signed forgivingly into the phone.

“Jesus Rich, I’m so sorry, do you mind me asking what happened?”

“Suicide, he um, yeah.”

“I-I had no idea, I’m sorry that-“

“And while we were in Derry, an accident happened, and I lost-“ Richie’s voice cracked, “ _ We  _ lost another… friend.”

“Jesus Christ Richie, I don’t even know what to say.”

“You know, I don’t either, um…” he trailed off, staring into a movie poster of The Hangover he bought a couple years back on impulse.

“Well, if you need any time off I’m sure the agency will understand.”

“Yeah, that’s actually what I called you about,” Richie paused, “I want to write my own material.”

Steve scoffed on the other line.

Richie began to bargain, “No Steve listen, I spent a lot of time with people who I haven’t seen in years, they helped me remember a lot of things about myself and I think that’s what was missing in my writing, if you give me a deadline I can get you something-“

“Richie we’ve talked about this. I love your work, you know I do, but you know what the general public wants. You’re no Dave Chapelle, you can’t just write some bullshit and expect everyone to laugh. We have a writer for you because you have the charisma to be on that stage, you just need to be telling jokes that people like. Simple humor, nothing too well thought out, potato chip comedy, right? It’s nothing life changing, but people keep coming back for more. That’s how we keep the paychecks coming in.”

Richie felt belittled, and almost angry, but he was too tired to snap, “Steve, please, I promise I’ve gotten better. Just give me a deadline and I’ll get something done, then read it, you can hate it. I just, I- I need this.”

There was silence for a while, then a sigh from the other line.

“Okay fine, but no promises.”

Richie felt something of a smile creep onto his face.

“Yes, yes that's fine.”

“Get me a rough transcript in a week.”

“Absolutely.”

“I’m going back to sleep, it’s six in the morning you crazy kid.”

Richie chuckled a little, then hung up the phone. His smile faded once he was faced with the harsh reality that existed in his room. It was going to be hard, but he was going to have to be okay.

  
  
  


Eddie was sure he looked like a zombie as he stumbled from the Barrens onto the streets of Derry. He was caked in blood, sweat, mud, and other filth. He wasn’t sure how long it took him to get out of the sewers, maybe a couple of days. The fact that he wasn’t dehydrated to all hell was as much of a miracles as him walking on his two legs was. He didn’t know what kind of dark magic was at play keeping him alive, but he did feel like passing out. Eddie barely slept while in the pipes, there were no dry surfaces sanitary enough for him to consider even going near, besides the fact that he wasn’t able to relax until he made it out. 

The whole time spent exploring the sewer for a way out felt like just one big suppressed panic attack, he knew he didn’t have time to wallow in fear. Maybe that’s why once he hit the streets he felt his hunger and exhaustion all crash at once. There was nothing to eat down there, obviously, and all the water was contaminated. He sat on the nearest street bench, stiff as a board, and rested his face in his hands.

“Excuse me sir?” 

Eddie looked up slowly. A woman hovered over where he sat. She smiled kindly, and handed him a crisp $5. Eddie took it slowly, confused.

“I hope that can provide something for you,” she said before walking off.

Eddie’s mind took too long to put two and two together, he was truly fried.

“I’m not homeless,” he called after her, even though she was long gone. He didn’t question it anymore, and made a beeline for the nearest vending machine. He bought two bottles of water, a Snickers, a Slim Jim, and a thing of Pringle’s. Eddie was a healthy person, he ate clean and took good care of himself, but the malnourishment he felt right now was unlike anything he’s felt before, and he ate his vending machine goodies like an animal, right there on the street corner. He would be embarrassed for himself under any other circumstances, but right now he was too hungry to give a damn. He looked like a raccoon eating shit straight from a dumpster. His snacks didn’t last long, and he wiped his mouth and powered on through to the inn.

There never seemed to be anyone working there, it was run by one dude who was more elusive than the monster that they defeated. Eddie walked into the inn quietly, unsure if he’d have to face the manager in his state. Luckily, it was a ghost town. He sped up to his room, and there was still the telltale stain on the wall from his encounter with Bowers. His door was left ajar, and he wondered if this place was completely abandoned.

“Anyone?” He called out, unsure if any of his friends were still here, and he was answered with silence.

The inside of his room looked messier than he remembered, as if someone rummaged through his things. Out of instinct, he began to put his things away absentmindedly, then hurried to his bathroom to take a shower. His blood was still on the tile floor, aging into a brownish red. He made a mental note to clean it after he showered.

Eddie set back out onto the streets after resituating himself and his things. He didn’t bother checking his phone, he’d have to deal with his wife and work later, he only bothered to bring his wallet. He was evidently still in survival mode, and he made a hasty journey to the library where Mike lived.

Libraries always reminded Eddie of grade school. Bowers’s body was thankfully removed from the scene, and the quiet study carried on as per status quo. There were about five other people reading as Eddie walked in, and they paid him no mind. An older man worked the front desk. He was busy stamping books as Eddie approached him. 

“Hello,” Eddie’s voice sounded lost and desperate.

The man glanced up.

“Is Mike Hanlon around?” He asked.

The old man shook his head.

“He moved out yesterday morning.”

“Fuck, really??”

“Shh!” A woman reading hissed out, and Eddie gave an apologetic grimace.

The old man behind the counter began to walk off with a stack of books, and Eddie took that as a social cue to leave. He politely made his way out of the building, and once he hit the fresh air, the gravity of it all hit him. He had to sit down to take it in. His friends think that he’s dead, so they left and carried on with their lives. Who knows what his wife was thinking with him missing, and he quite possibly could’ve lost his job due to his being missing for God knows how many days. Did Myra know that he died? Was there a search party out for him? Was there a funeral? Did his friends show up at his funeral? Did Richie meet Myra? Where is Richie? Is he okay? 

If Eddie wasn’t malnourished, he would have thrown up by now. He was a dead man walking, a ghost, he shouldn't be alive. It was a photo finish, beautifully tragic like Shakespeare, so what the fuck was he supposed to do now? He started by getting up and going to go buy himself a sandwich.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dating was always a weird subject for Richie. He talked himself up onstage a bunch, constantly referencing girlfriends he never had, when in actuality he could never keep a steady girlfriend. Relationships always felt extremely fabricated, and he would chicken out before things got too serious. Maybe it was the fact that even in his middle age he was still denying the fact that he just didn’t like women.
> 
> ***
> 
> Now, he was finally back in New York, and he could pick up where he left off. For some reason, though, that fact wasn’t reassuring in the slightest. Eddie opened the door slowly, unsure if Myra was asleep. He wished that he could say he was excited to see her, but honestly he was just afraid of what would happen if he woke her up. The downstairs was exactly as he remembered, lit by a few scented candles and decorated exactly to his wife’s liking. This was her house more than anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeehaw the boys are taking big steps in this chapter! there’s alcohol use in this chapter so beware just in case youre not into that. next chapter things will pick up a bit, hope y’all enjoy!

Richie felt that wearing dress shirts made him look like his dad. It was almost unsettling, but comforting knowing he could compare to such a genuine family man. He didn’t wear them that often, yet here he was, sitting in the middle of a local Italian bistro, sporting something papa Wentworth could be seen in most days, waiting for his blind date.

He almost wishes that he could forget Derry all over again, especially since everything that happened a month ago. Steve recommended to put himself back on the dating scene to help his depressive state so it doesn’t get in the way of his writing, so Richie thought fuck it, and was now waiting for Diane from Tinder to pull up. 

Dating was always a weird subject for Richie. He talked himself up onstage a bunch, constantly referencing girlfriends he never had, when in actuality he could never keep a steady girlfriend. Relationships always felt extremely fabricated, and he would chicken out before things got too serious. Maybe it was the fact that even in his middle age he was still denying the fact that he just didn’t like women. It was a concept he refused to fully grasp, even though it was proven time and time again after staring at a boy in an arcade for too long when he was 13, or when he had a handful or casual drunken hookups with frat brothers in college, or when he bottomed for the first time in his late twenties. He tried to avoid hooking up with men and force himself down the straight line, exclusively in recent times since his career took off. The last thing he needed was some paparazzi catching him leaving a bar with some dude. He was going on a hot streak of seeing women up until he remembered…

“Eddie…”

The name escaped his lips absentmindedly, and his stomach turned. It really was always Eddie that made him panic though, especially when they were kids. Something about how that boy carried himself set Richie’s dreams on fire. Even when he forgot about him, the feeling was still there. Now that he was gone, the thought made him violently nauseous, as if it was the name of an abusive ex.

Richie slammed down whatever red wine he was sipping lightly just to chase a feeling of euphoria to take his mind off the name. In his newly drunken haze he watched Diane enter the building. She walked over, all sweet and shy, and asked, “Are you Riche from Tinder?”

The name sounded forgien. Was she talking to him? Was he Richie? The drunken stranger blinked heavily and looked at his own hands, then back up at Diane.

“No, no sorry you have the wrong guy,” he confirmed, then placed some cash on the table for his drink, and brought the bottle with him as Diane grew utterly confused.

The streets of L.A. were cooling down, autumn was on its way. Richie felt utterly lost, and took another glug off of his wine. He wandered down the streets, searching for anything of comfort, like a puppy trying to sniff its way home. Phasing in and out of reality, he ended up at the place he never dared go before. With one hearty gulp from his drink, he ventured into the gay bar.

  
  
  


Walking up his house’s steps in Brooklyn at 3 am felt like a strangers house to Eddie. He spent one last day in Derry for nostalgic reasons, visiting his old schools, his house growing up, and where he and his friends would spend most of their days exploring and making memories. It was almost painful revisiting these places, but it was all in good healing. Now, he was finally back in New York, and he could pick up where he left off. For some reason, though, that fact wasn’t reassuring in the slightest.

Eddie opened the door slowly, unsure if Myra was asleep. He wished that he could say he was excited to see her, but honestly he was just afraid of what would happen if he woke her up. The downstairs was exactly as he remembered, lit by a few scented candles and decorated exactly to his wife’s liking. This was her house more than anything. He dropped his bags by the door, too tired to do anything with them right now, and slid off his shoes. He placed them in shoe rack by the door, and noticed a pair of men’s shoes that didn’t belong to him. 

“No…” he was in denial the whole trip upstairs. Dim, warm light poured from the inside of his bedroom, and he opened the door to find Myra in bed with another man.

“Eddie-bear!!!” She threw the guy off of her and covered herself with the comforter, her mister hid a guilty smile.

“Ah, sorry about that man, this is super awkward,” the stranger said. He was clearly on something. 

Eddie stood there, staring at the space between the two. He nodded, licked his lips, then turned on his heels and headed back to the staircase.

“Eddie wait,” Myra threw back on her cocktail dress from that evening and followed him hastily. She grabbed his hand, and he snatched it away.

“So is it safe to assume every time I go on a business trip you find new guys to occupy yourself with?” Eddie faced her and crossed his arms.

“Eddie, look, we haven’t been intimate with each other in a while and I just-“

“I try to initiate and you’re never interested!! No, you know what Myra I really try with you, I really do, I wanted to make this work so bad.”

“Hey, you are one to talk. You were gone longer than you said you’d be, I started to get worried!” She tried turning the situation back on him, now knowing that he was in a place of weakness.

“Oh so your way of dealing with anxiety is screwing the first guy you see??”

“For your information, Eddie, Sean is a real man, he actually listens! As if you’d know anything about being a man.”

“I wouldn’t give a damn about Sean even if he came from fucking Jupiter!!! You know what,” Eddie yanked his wedding band from his ring finger, and Myra hissed.

“Eddie you don’t know what you’re doing, you can’t do this to me…”

Eddie dropped the meaningless piece of metal to the ground and flipped her off.

“Fuck you Myra. Fuck you,” He spat, leaving her speechless. 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, “How’s that for a real man?”

He rode his wave of confidence from standing up to her for the first time all the way back downstairs, grabbed his luggage, shot Myra at the top of the stairs the bird one last time, and slammed the door. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t want any entrance music, just a spotlight on him as he walked on stage. The crowd erupted with applause as more and more people noticed. His fans have waited so long for Richie Trashmouth to drop his new material, and it was finally time. Richie waved at everyone with a smile and took the microphone in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god this is an emotional chapter. just a heads up, I found a little inspiration in Bill Burr’s standup shows for Richie’s material, but for the most part I wrote it. it is really hard to write comedy, remind me to never become a comedian lmao

Comedy shows aren’t a scene Eddie is familiar with. He’s comfortable in bars, he can hang with his peers pretty well over a drink, but comedy fans were intimidating. He sat in line to the theater awkwardly after purchasing his ticket, holding a drink in his right hand. Eddie’s foot was tapping lightly against the floor, he was visibly anxious, so he downed a few mouthfuls of liquor to calm his nerves.

Most people would say the fact that he still hasn’t contacted any of the Losers after three months is problematic, but Eddie had his excuses. He was dead when they exchanged contact information A, and B he just finished putting the final touches on his divorce. Eddie was doing okay, he had his own place in Brooklyn and was doing his own thing, working from home and such, going on runs, he was good. When Eddie heard tell that Richie Tozier would be performing his new material in New York he figured that would be a good time to notify the others that he was still alive. So why was he so nervous?

His eyes surfed the crowd, looking for familiar faces. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to find January embers, and Beverly glowing with a smile as she stood next to Ben, Mike, and Bill. They couldn’t see him, he was a little ways away. Eddie took a deep breath, and nodded, preparing himself. This was going to be tough, like ripping off a bandaid. He could do this, and he walked over.

Bill was the first to see him. Inquisitive Bill, always very aware of his surroundings. When their eyes locked, he took a double take, and then stared as if he was looking at a ghost. His expression was a mix of horrified and awestruck.

“H-holy shit!”

Beverly turned and saw Eddie next. It took her a moment for what was happening to register, and once she did, she started bawling. Ben noticed next, and froze. Mike’s jaw dropped.

Eddie stopped in front of the group and gave a small smile.

“Hey...”

Beverly threw him into a hug, crushing him under her not so surprisingly strong arms. The others joined the hug hesitantly, as if they weren’t sure if this was real or not.

Bev pulled back and cupped his face.

“EDDIE!!!”

“Hi Bev.”

“Eddie you’re alive!!!”

“Last time I checked yeah.”

“What the fuck??”

Eddie looked all of his friends over and smiled nervously, then began his story. He told them how he woke up and the wound was healed, magically almost. He talked about how he spent days in the sewers, and once he was finally free, he was so wrapped up in his divorce and finding a new place that he didn’t have a moment to contact them, and figured they’d all be here at the show anyways. They were understanding, but weren’t quite sure what to do with themselves. They have been mourning a live man for three months, this kind of shit only happens in movies, but at the end of the day, they were all just grateful that Eddie was given another chance at life.

Richie’s backstage prep always consists of unconventional hype music and a few hits from a CBD cart. Tonight’s theme song was Buddy Holly, a classic in Tozier’s book. He bounced around his dressing room with his eyes closed, shaking the nerves off of him, and singing along to the savory lyrics to calm his anxiety. This was a big moment for his career, this was his comeback since his big fuck up on stage, and his first show written completely by himself. The pressure was on high tonight, and he needed to muster all the fake confidence he could.

The door opened.

“Five minutes Rich,” a stage director said.

Richie shot a thumbs up and turned down his music. Once the door shut again, he faced himself in the mirror, leaning on the counter of the vanity. He repeated reassuring statements in his mind, hoping that if he thought one thing over and over it would magically come true. As if that’s done him much luck before. He rubbed his eyes before his trauma could resurface, and poured a little water over his face from a bottle.

A knock on the door sounded, and Steve stepped in.

“How’s the man of the hour?” He seemed too enthusiastic for someone as nervous as Richie. Tozier wiped from water from his brow and shot another thumbs up.

“Holy shit, are you sweating??” Steve asked.

“Oh, no, it's just water.”

“Well, how are you feeling?”

“Ask me that after the show, okay?”

“Okay, fair enough fair enough,” Steve put his hands in the air and started toward the door again.

Richie’s mouth grew dry, and he took a shaky breath.

“Hey Steve? Hey I gotta tell you something.”

Steve stopped in his tracks and looked back to his coworker.

“Yeah Rich?”

Richie took a beat.

“So um, I’m gay.”

Silence filled the space between them. Steve didn’t look surprised, just a little confused.

“Okay,” Steve finally said. Richie felt relief, not complete relief that would cure everything he feared about himself, but enough.

Steve continued, “Why are you telling me this now?”

Richie licked his lips and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I figured it would be easiest to start with you,” he squinted.

“Okay, I understand that, easier than family and friends, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

“Well, we’ll talk about this more later, figure out if we should ever make it public,” Steve patted Richie on the arm apologetically, but Rich could tell his manager was proud of him. 

“Knock ‘em dead Trashmouth.”

He didn’t want any entrance music, just a spotlight on him as he walked on stage. The crowd erupted with applause as more and more people noticed. His fans have waited so long for Richie Trashmouth to drop his new material, and it was finally time. Richie waved at everyone with a smile and took the microphone in his hand.

“Hello, thank you, thank you. Okay, okay, I know it’s been a hot second but damn, I’m no war hero, I didn’t cure anything. Jesus, fucking lifetime achievement award over here,” he joked as the crowd took a moment to calm down, and he began.

“You know what the strangest thing to me is? It’s having to visit the town you grew up in for the first time in thirty fucking years, and its not weird for the reasons you would think! The fucking journey there, I don’t get out enough, but holy shit the ‘people watching’ I do at the airport still remains undefeated. That's the one thing I love about airports, the fucking animals you see pass through there. I went to the bathroom, which sucks because the L.A. airport is pretty busy, you hate having to shit in a public restroom. My gate was all the way on the opposite end of the entire airport, all the way in goddamn Singapore, like they were unsure whether they should make gate exclusively for Derry since its such a small fucking town. They said fuck it and built like a wooden shack on the runway, like you have to go outside to get to this gate, all the workers are shooting up behind it when they go on break. Luckily, there was a bathroom near this obscure gate, and I had to shit, which was perfect! This one was secluded, I was alone, I could have my privacy, it was perfect. So I'm in the bathroom stall, I'm doing my thing, and-,” he broke into laughter for a moment, then hopped right back into it. 

“This dude barged in and was grunting like some kind of animal, like he was out of breath. Like  _ UGH, UGH, _ I thought this mother fucker was going to have a heart attack. I was petrified!! I just hid in my stall and waited for this beast to leave. I could hear him talking to himself as he shuffled into the stall next to me, and oh my God he shit his brains out. I had to sit there and listen to that shit as he spoke to himself  _ ‘Ah yeah we’re okay are we okay yeah we’re good…’ _ like his multiple personalities were trying to process the atrocity they committed. I didn't even see him, I didn't dare walk out of my stalk and face him. Who knows what this mystery man looked like, I didn’t even see the bottom of his shoes, like I could have peeked out from under the stall door, I don't even know if he was wearing shoes!!! I was worried if I went out there I’d be face to face with Donkey Kong or some shit.”

The crowd was eating it up, they seemed pleasantly surprised by his change in tone compared to his other work, and Richie smiled.

“No but once i got to Derry, shit just got weirder man. You know when an old friend from high school will randomly find your facebook and contact you like ‘Hey! It's been so long, we should meet up!’ Well I’ve learned the hard way that if anyone ever does that, don’t!”

A handful of especially loud voice barked out in laughter over the crowd, and Richie knew it was the losers. He couldn't see them, but he’d know their laughs anywhere.

“No but in all honestly my friends are great, we’ve been through thick and thin together. We literally used to call ourselves the Losers Club, we were so uncool that it’s laughable.”

He took a beat, reminiscing, before he mentioned one name in particular.

“One of our friends, a man I will never forget even if I tried, Edward Kaspbrak, was the biggest fucking loser out of all of us. His daily getup consisted of these cute, little red gym shorts. Something about them really did something to a guy, wow. Yeah you’d take one look at him and just feel this irresistible urge to punch him in the fucking nose. He had this fanny pack containing all these allergy medications and an inhaler, which was a nice touch, he was prime rib for all of the piece of shit bullies who would actively abuse kids they deemed inferior. With that in mind, I would always protect the shit out of Eds and take the punches for him in an act of knightly courage. He was just so short and pitiful, I mean how could you not? Oh man it was glorious, the amount of broken glasses and bruised eyes I’ve endured, I looked like a Jackson Pollock of blood splatters. Eddie really did let himself go in public looking like that one distant aunt who’s really passionate about wine and her fourteen cats, just because of that fucking fanny pack man. He didn’t give a damn either because his mommy said it made him look  _ dignified _ , what a fucking mama’s boy. Eddie, um-“

He spotted the Losers finally, all of them losing their shit laughing, and he locked eyes with Eddie. For the first few moments of staring down this ghost, he thought it was just another stranger/lookalike. Richie would find himself staring at random people too long, hoping that it was Eddie, but would painfully be shot down when they turned around and gave him a rude look. This time though it was really him, laughing hysterically in the crowd at the material Richie never thought he'd be able to hear. 

“F-fuck..” Richie was winded, sweating beads. He cracked a nervous smile and forcefully choked back his tears, then gestured to where Eddie sat in the audience next to the rest of the Losers.

“Even after all these years Eddie is still out here throwing me off,” Richie put on a fake smile and flipped him off. The crowd cheered. Eddie didn’t expect this kind of reaction, but he smiled back regardless.

The rest of the show went really well, he had a bit written for each of the Losers, and concluded with Stan. All of the other bits about the friend group seemed longer than Eddie’s, as if he wrote it keeping in mind that Eddie wouldn’t be there. Now that Eddie was here and alive, he improvised and skipped over the rest of what he had. Once it ended, the Losers said they had reservations for them all to catch, and that Richie would meet them there, but Eddie needed to talk to him sooner than that. So when the others want to save their table, Eddie went backstage and was left pacing in front of Richie’s changing room.

The door opened, and Eddie stood up straight as Richie walked out. The comedian looked startled, and his eyes were glassy. Eddie furrowed his eyebrows.

“Are you high, or were you crying?”

Richie closed the door slowly behind him.

“Little bit of both.”

The tension between the two grew awkward, neither of them knew what to say, there was too much that needed to be said.

“So how long have you um,” Richie rubbed his neck, “How long have you been alive?”

“Uh, this whole time basically? I think I woke up a day after the er, the fight.”

Richie nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“I would’ve liked a call.”

“Ah yeah I would’ve, I just never got any of your numbers,” Eddie said definitively.

“Well, um, call next time,” and Richie began to walk off.

Eddie felt a sour feeling in his gut begin to form, and he called after him, “So that’s it? No emotional reconnection?”

“Didn’t you have plenty of that in the lobby with the others?” Richie stopped and turned back to look at him.

“Yeah, but I came back here to see  _ you _ .”

Richie shrugged and held his arms out, “Here I am.”

Eddie swallowed dryly.

“What’s going on with you, you’re acting weird.”

Richie licked his lips and tapped his foot lightly, then looked around, either for someone to save him from this conversation or making sure that no one was around to hear what was about to happen.

“I dunno man, for the past three months I’ve mourned you, and now you’re back and it does not feel real.”

“How do you think I feel? I died Richie.”

“Look I’m pretty stoned right now, can we talk about this later?”

“What are you trying to put off??”

“You’re  _ here! _ Like you’re really fucking here!” Richie looked down at his feet, “I’ve dreamt this scenario a million times and have woken up to nothing but disappointment. This doesn't feel real and I’m worried that once I accept that it is then it’ll be taken from me again.”

Eddie gave a warm look, and reached out.

“I’m not going anywhere Ri-“

“And even if it is real like, what the fuck do you want me to do, huh?? I just got my career back and from the looks of it I’m going up in the comedy world, I can’t risk it.”

Eddie’s face tightened in anger, “What the fuck are you so afraid of??”

Richie tapped his foot and walked over to the closest wall, then leaned up against it.

“Don’t you have a wife to get home to?” He asked casually.

“I divorced her once I got home, she was in bed with another man.”

Richie barked out a pained laugh.

“ _ Fuck _ , Eddie, what do you want from me???”

“I want my friend back!” Eddie was now shouting.

Richie scoffed, then looked Kaspbrak up and down, “ _ Friend? _ ”

“What now??” Eddie crossed his arms.

“Don’t act like you’re not well aware that I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” Richie said bitterly.

Eddie was taken aback by the bluntness of the statement.

“What the fuck do you want me to say to that Richie??”

“That’s what I’m talking about!!! You’re back, and you’re single, it’s my dream come fucking true, but you’re straight and I’m so deep in the closet that coming out could ruin my career. You know all of this, so why the  _ fuck _ are you here Eddie??” They were now a foot apart from each other, Richie had approached him accusatively. Eddie swallowed painfully, then shrugged.

“I should have stayed dead,” he said with a nod, then walked off with whatever pride he had left. Richie heard a door slam, and was left with his head spinning. It hurt hearing Eddie say that he wished he was dead, and he hated himself for saying all of that to a person that he was genuinely happy to see. He regretted saying it all, especially the fact that he was in love with him, because it was true. In the silence of the backstage, he leaned up against the wall and let himself cry, mourning what could have been all over again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I didn’t expect me to come out to you drunk and in your boyfriend’s home, but here I am,” he said, mumbling.
> 
> Beverly blinked, and smiled kindly.
> 
> “Did you just come out to me?”
> 
> “Yeah, not my proudest moment, but it's about time you knew.”
> 
> “Who else knows?”
> 
> “Just Steve.” He hesitated. “And Eddie…” He thought for another moment. “And I think I told Stan freshman year when we were drunk but we never talked about it again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter should be the last, woohoo!! major character development this chapter, hope y’all enjoy!

Neither Eddie nor Richie wound up going to that dinner, but Eddie was finally able to exchange contact information with his friends. It was nice getting texts from people that just wanted to hear from him with no ulterior motives. He would get the occasional meme, selfies from all their travels, and a lot of pet photos to which he responded with his own pet. 

Eddie had adopted Wembley a few weeks after he settled into his new place. He’d never expect himself to be a cat person, but after learning that his pet allergy was fake, he figured he’d give it a shot, and was pleasantly surprised when he completely fell for this orange kitty. He figured an homage to Fraggle Rock was an appropriate name. The Losers loved seeing his cat in various poses around his town house, all except Richie. The two haven’t spoken since the show last week.

Eddie was busy getting ready to go on a run when his phone buzzed. No one really calls him, except for work, but even then it was Sunday, and no one would be trying to contact him from his insurance firm. He nervously checked the caller ID, and exhaled when he saw that it was Bill.

“Hey man,” he said with a friendly ring after putting the phone on speaker and going back to tie his shoes.

“Hey Eds,” Bill’s voice sounded a little deflated.

“What’s going on bud?”

“Oh not much, I just um, I don’t want to impose, but is there any way I could stay with you for a few days? I gotta get out of town man.”

Eddie grew concerned.

“Yeah, no of course, is everything alright though?”

“Um, yeah, Audra and I are splitting it.”

“Oh Bill, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay, it’s been a long time coming.”

“When will you get here?”

“I’m at the airport right now.”

“Shit really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know exactly where I should go, I just figured I’d figure something out once I get here.”

“Big Bill, always so prepared,” Eddie laughed lightly, and Bill smiled.

“See you soon Eddie.”

Kaspbrak picked his friend up from the airport later that afternoon, and they took a cab back to his place. Bill was beyond excited to see his friend’s new crib, and wasn’t disappointed when they pulled up to the quaint town house. Wembley was in the window watching them as they walked up the steps and unlocked the door.

“Man Eddie, this place is nice!”

“You like it?” Eddie smiled and hung up his coat, “A buddy of mine in real estate owed me a favor so I was able to get this baby for cheap.”

“Is that legal?”

“Hell if I know.”

It was decorated with almost a rustic modern vibe. There were still moving boxes here and there, Eddie was not an organized person, but it was still very nice. Natural light poured in from the living room, and Wembley laid eating up the sunlight.

“Aw, Wembley, hey bud,” Bill went over and gave the Persian cat a pet, having only seen him before in photos.

“Can I get you anything? I have drinks, snacks,” Eddie walked to the kitchen and began to once over his pantry.

“Water’s fine.”

Eddie helped Bill settle in downstairs with the pullout couch, and he set his things around the living room. Eddie ordered Chinese Food when it came to be about dinner time. Myra rarely let Eddie eat Chinese, she was worried about all the MSG in the food. Now that he was on his own, he ate it almost once a week, it was his favorite. The two sat and watched The Chappelle Show on cable while they waited for the food. Wembley sat in Bill’s lap, to Eddie’s betrayal.

“So, do you want to talk?” Bill said suddenly in the middle of their third episode. Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“What about?”

“You and Richie’s falling out?”

Eddie sighed deeply and sank down into the couch.

“How did you find out?”

“Well, neither of you respond to the group chat, you both skipped dinner last week, and I heard from Bev that he’s staying with her and Ben in Portland having a depressive episode.”

“Jesus…”

“The last time he was this sad was when we thought you died, so it's pretty easy to put two and two together,” Bill pet Wembley sweetly.

Eddie ached, and bit his fingernails absentmindedly.

“So what happened that night?” Bill asked calmly.

Eddie cracked a nervous smile, “I went to go say hi to him after the show, and he was being all standoffish, so I asked him what was wrong and turns out he’s in love with me.”

Bill laughed.

“What’s so funny?” Eddie glared.

“Yeah no shit he’s in love with you! How did you not know?”

Eddie couldn't help but smile, “I think I did, but a part of me couldn't be sure… He fucking lashed out, acting like he can’t have me because he thinks that I’m straight and that it’ll ruin his career if he ever comes out.”

“He _ thinks _ you’re _ straight _?” Bill cracked a smile.

“Don’t joke man.”

“No no that’s not what I meant, I’m genuinely asking if you are.”

Eddie didn’t know the answer to that himself.

“I dunno man, I know that I am attracted to women, but…”

“But?”

“Seeing Richie back in Derry, getting all of those memories back, it made me feel things… Things I haven’t felt in years.”

Bill nodded thoughtfully.

“You know, the term bisexual is becoming more and more common these days,” Denbrough added

Eddie blushed, and smiled at Bill.

“Richie, get the fuck out of the bathroom I need to piss!!!” Beverly slammed her fist on the door, _ bang bang bang! _

“There’s a bathroom in the guest room Rich, I dunno why you need to use ours,” Ben was busy tying his shoes from the side of his bed.

The door opened slowly, and a drunken Richie slid out.

“There’s no sexy photos of you two in my bathroom, what else am I going to jack off to?” Richie chuckled to himself, and took a slug from the wine bottle he was holding.

“Are you drunk?” Beverly crossed her arms, “It’s 11 am on a Wednesday and you’re shit faced.” 

“Bev you’re so pretty,” Richie lazily reached an arm out to touch her face, ands she shooed him away.

“That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said all morning,” Ben smirked like a dork, and Bev smiled coyly. Richie groaned and rolled his eyes, then went for another mouthful of wine. Beverly intercepted it and took the bottle from him.

“Whaat hey gimme that back!!” Richie reached out.

“No, enough drinking Richie, we’re gonna get you sobered up and you’re finally going to talk about your fucking feelings.”

Richie protested in the form of whines and groans all whole walk back to his room asBev guided him. She helped him into the shower, picked out a clean outfit for him to wear, and was waiting with a big glass of orange juice for him once he finished bathing. He drank it all at once, let out a hearty burp, and laid back on the guest bed, still only dressed in a towel.

“Better?” Bev sat on the edge of the bed.

Richie said nothing but he nodded. 

“Good,” and she began to hand him the clothes she picked out.

He held up a hand, “I’ll change once the room stops spinning.”

Beverly laughed and nodded. They sat in silence for a bit, listening to the sound of birds outside the window.

“Oregon is beautiful, isn’t it?” She smiled down at him.

“Yeah I guess if you’re into fresh air and legal marijuana,” he joked.

“So what’s going on with you? It’s been a couple days, I’ve let you wallow in self pity and drink all of our beers, now it's time to deal with this shit like an adult.”

Richie groaned and sighed, then complied.

“I didn’t expect me to come out to you drunk and in your boyfriend’s home, but here I am,” he said, mumbling.

Beverly blinked, and smiled kindly.

“Did you just come out to me?”

“Yeah, not my proudest moment, but it's about time you knew.”

“Who else knows?”

“Just Steve.” He hesitated. “And Eddie…” He thought for another moment. “And I think I told Stan freshman year when we were drunk but we never talked about it again.”

“Wow, so you’ve known for a while, huh?”

“Yeah man, it’s one of those things that you kinda just realize during puberty, like what gets you going and who shows up in your dreams. Take you for example, what shower nozzle masturbation material did you use as a kid?”

Beverly laughed and shoved him lightly, to which he panicked as his towel almost fell off.

“Can we continue this conversation _ after _I get clothes on?”

“I won’t look,” she chuckled.

Richie rolled his eyes and grabbed a pair of pants, then went back to the bathroom and left the door open so he could hear his friend.

“So, what, did you confess your undying love to Eddie and now things are weird?” Bev asked, looking in the opposite direction, giving Richie his privacy.

“Basically,” he walked back into the room with pants on, towel drying his hair, “I acted like a huge dick about it.”

“What did you say?”

“I was all accusing and shit. I dunno, I lashed out, I felt bitter and angry as if he left me on purpose. I have all of these,” he made a gesture, “unresolved questions about who I am, and it scares me, Bev. I lashed out because I was scared.”

Beverly gave Richie a sympathetic look and pulled him into a hug.

“I know Rich,” she said softly.

“I know it’s selfish but it hurts, he’s all alive and single and straight…”

Beverly pulled away and gave him a look.

“What?” He asked.

“There’s no way Eddie is straight.”

“What??”

“He lives alone in New York with a cat.”

“Eddie has a cat..?”

“Plus I watched you two fuckers grow up together, I caught a major vibe i.e. the awkward teenaged boners you got around each other.”

“Oh God, was it that obvious??”

“Yeah, being the only girl in an all guy friend group means that you notice some things-“

“No no, I mean, you think he feels the same??” He took a seat next to Beverly.

She nodded and said, “Richie, he came to see _ you _.”

Richie’s eyebrows raised as his remaining brain cells finally understood, and he buried his face in his hands, “Augh I fucked up Bev!”

“You didn’t fuck it up, it’s not too late.”

“Shit, I- I gotta go!” He shot to his feet and began to scramble around, throwing on a t-shirt and gathering his things.

“Wait what? Just like that??” Beverly was proud.

“Yup!”

“What about your career??”

“Fuck it, I’ll figure it out later, this is more important.”

“Wait, where are you going exactly?”

Richie stopped what he was doing and looked at Bev. For the first time in years, his face had hope.

“I’m going to Brooklyn.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don't want a clean slate Rich, I want what we had…”
> 
> Richie shuffled a little in place.
> 
> “Just what we had..?” Tozier asked coyly.
> 
> Eddie pursed his lips to hide a smile.
> 
> “No… No, not just what we had, you know this Richie. You know this, so why the fuck are you here?” He said that with genuine curiosity with a twinge of him teasing, referring to their fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry that this took so long but here it is! the final chapter! quick warning for the f slur and mildly sexual content just in case y'all aren’t into that, its not used in a derogatory way but still. it took a while for me to create this chapter in a way I’m pleased with but i think I finally did it! hope you enjoy it as much as i do, thank you for all the support!!!

The doorbell rang at 5:57 in the evening. Eddie must’ve dozed off at his laptop in the kitchen, he didn’t remember falling asleep, but it was easy to zone out when you’re a risk analyst. Bill had left around 4:30 for some networking opportunities and wouldn’t be back until late, so Eddie decided to get in his pajamas and be comfortable while he checked his emails. 

He trudged over to the door, sleep still in his eyes, and opened it. To his surprise, he faced Richie. He woke up immediately after seeing good old Mr. Four Eyes face to face. Eddie opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted right off the bat.

“I know I’m a prick, and I know I’m selfish,” Richie started with a desperate sound to his voice, “I can’t live another life, Eddie. I can't change who I am or how I handle things, and I’m pretty sure I already fucked this life up, but you were given another one, you get the opportunity of a clean slate. I want to try and not fuck up your round two, I want to be here.” He concluded, and took a moment to catch his breath.

Eddie blinked a few times, then asked, “How many times have you rehearsed that in your head?”

“Too many dude,” Richie nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Eddie sighed and leaned against the doorframe. He chose his next works carefully.

“I don't want a clean slate Rich, I want what we had…”

Richie shuffled a little in place.

“Just what we had..?” Tozier asked coyly.

Eddie pursed his lips to hide a smile.

“No… No, not just what we had, you know this Richie. You know this, so why the fuck are you here?” He said that with genuine curiosity with a twinge of him teasing, referring to their fight.

Richie went to say something, then he looked Eddie up and down and furrowed his eyebrows, “God are you in pajamas? Isn’t it like 6?”

“Rich..”

“Sorry sorry,” Richie grinned lightly and put his hands in the air. Eddie smiled back.

Richie tapped his foot lightly, then swallowed his pride and asked, “Wanna grab dinner?”

The two sat across from each other in silence as they waited for their food to come out. Eddie changed into something other than pajamas before they left, it was casual but still nice, and made Richie feel underdressed among other things. Who knew that a long sleeved t-shirt and a pleather jacket with a pair of slightly too tight denim  jeans could give Richie’s entire encyclopedia of men he would give his left nut to sleep with a run for their money. It was Eddie after all, and he really did grow into himself well. Richie swallowed dryly and cleared his throat to avoid every what-if scenario that came into his mind.

“So…” He tapped his fingers against the table.

“So?” Eddie took a sip of water and raised an eyebrow.

Richie cracked a nervous smile, “First dates are always so awkward, like what should I say?”

Eddie smiled softly and asked, “Is this a date?”

“No! I mean like- there’s so many things that go unspoken between us and its fucking infuriating-“

“Relax, okay? It’s just me.”

Richie did relax a little, and nodded.

Eddie raised his water glass to his lips, “What would you normally say to me?”

“Well, I’d say how the way you drink water looks like how a five cent whore swallows because of your thin fucking paper lips.”

“Ah, there you are, that's Richie I know,” Eddie laughed, “Like you know anything about five cent whores. You cannot convince me that you haven’t paid for sex at least once in your life.”

“More like people paid me. Frat houses are like a cesspool of closeted guys who would literally pay any openly gay kid or theater major for sloppy toppy or a handjob behind the local Dairy Queen. I was a theater major.”

“Wait wha- wait, college guys actually paid you for blowjobs??”

“I’m kidding, I wish they paid me, practically no one knew how to suck a dick. What’s a kid gotta do to get good head? Hook up with a girl?? That ship sailed for me after my heavily closeted high school career, and then I hoped back on that boat when my name in comedy began to grow,” Richie crossed his arms and snacked on the French fries they had sitting on the table, “I helped a lot of those frat guys ‘experiment’, and I dunno, I was desperate enough, I took what I could get.” He shrugged.

“Wow, you whore,” Eddie joked, and Richie grabbed his water glass with a death grip just at the sound of Eddie saying that to him.

“So what does that make you a virgin?” Richie smirked, hiding his nerves.

“Hah, original. No I uh, I punched in that v-card senior year, sorry, some girl beat you to it bud.”

Richie took a beat, “What, in college?”

“No, high school.”

“No way.”

“Yeah, wait when did you lose yours??”

“Freshman year of college… to a girl…”

Eddie burst into laughter, and Richie flushed.

“What’s so fucking funny???” Richie tried to hide a grin

“I never,  _ never _ expected I’d lose it before you.”

“Well, you never had repressed homosexuality to deal with.”

Eddie’s chuckling quieted, “What makes you think I didn’t? I never said I was straight, why do you keep thinking that?”

Richie blinked, “Fair enough…”

“As much as I hate to say it, little 13 year old you in your dumb hawaiian shirts really hit different,” he made a gesture to Tozier.

“Hit different? Damn, Edward Spaghedward with the lingo.” 

“I downloaded twitter, teenagers are fucking terrifying.”

“Oh I am well aware.”

“I follow you.”

“Oh do you now?” Richie smirked.

Their food arrived as their conversation shifted into something about political memes.

It was a debate on whether or not to take a cab back or not, and they eventually decided on walking. It gave them more time together, more time to talk and catch up. The temperature was clearly dropping, but the two felt warm, bundled in their late autumn/early winter garbs, walking in stride next to each other.

“Man, so your mom really kicked the bucket huh?” Richie tried his best to sound sympathetic.

“Yeah, she spent my whole life making sure I was healthy that she paid no mind to herself, when in actuality she was the one with all the health issues. Ironic, isn’t it?”

“That’s one way to put it, I was thinking of the word  _ cruel _ or  _ emotionally manipulative.”  _ Richie shivered as a sharp wind hit the two, and they approached Eddie’s abode. Eddie started up the front steps, and Richie paused.

“Tonight was really nice Eds,” he started, “Again, I’m really fucking sorry about how much of an ass I acted like. Do you um, you wanna do something tomorrow?”

Eddie turned and raised an eyebrow, “What you think I’m not going to invite you inside? C’mon in Trashmouth.”

_ Oh. _

Richie kicked off his shoes and hung his jacket up once he got inside. It was weird being in Eddie Kaspbrak’s house as an adult, a feeling he would like to get used to though. There were no parents like when they were kids, they were now adult men who could make their own decisions.

Wembley waddled up and rubbed himself against Richie’s legs, and Richie took a double take.

“Oh I heard you got a cat,” Tozier crouched down and gave him a little pat.

“Yup, don’t be fooled by the big eyes, Wembley is a little bastard man.”

“...You named your cat Wembley?”

“Yes and what about it? Fraggle Rock was a classic.”

“God I wish you wouldn’t talk about Fraggle Rock as you’re trying to get into pants,” Richie expected a laugh, but Eddie’s reaction was something more of a suggestive stare

“Can I get you a drink or something?” Eddie headed into the kitchen without waiting for an answer, “I have Woodford bourbon.”

“Woodford? Jesus Eddie I didn’t think you were that prestigious.”

“I became a prick post divorce,” he chuckled and poured two glasses on the rocks, then walked over and handed Richie his in the living room, “Cheers?”

“Here’s to,” Richie thought for a moment, “Another life.”

_ Clink. _

They sat on the couch and discussed mundane things. Eddie expressed how he wanted to quit and go back to school, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do. Which was understandable, many people faced the same mental quarrel. Eventually, to avoid said existential dread, they came up with the genius plan to watch their old favorite, Flash Gordon, as they finished their drinks. Of course, Eddie owned it on DVD.

Halfway into the movie, Eddie turned to Richie and his gaze stuck somewhere between Tozier’s mouth and cheek. Richie looked back and let their eyes meet.

“Um,” Kaspbrak looked like he needed to say something, but no sound would allow itself to escape from his throat.

“Yeah..?” Richie dared ask.

Eddie licked his lips nervously, “...I’ll be right back, I gotta use it,” and excused himself to the restroom. Richie nodded, and shot Eds a thumbs up as he walked off.

After about ten minutes of sitting alone with Flash and his own thoughts, he decided to snoop. He made a beeline upstairs, carrying his empty glass in his right hand, and went into the bedroom. It was exactly as he expected, and remembered how Eddie’s childhood bedroom looked. He had a twin sized bed in the corner farthest from the closet, this horrible blue carpet, wallpaper with bikes, and complete organized chaos of all his keepsakes and possessions with a bottle on hand sanitizer on his bedside table. Twenty odd years later, the setup was essentially the same. He upgraded to a queen, which was placed in the corner farthest from his closet that laid open. Laundry poured out from inside it, he had an overflowing bookshelf, a box of vinyl records, and a few posters of various Woody Allen movies. On the bedside table sat a bottle of hand sanitizer, with, much to Richie’s surprise, a pack of cigarettes next to it.

“I promise I’m trying to quit,” Eddie stood in the door frame with a shameful look, “It’s a bad habit, I know.”

Richie gazed at him sweetly, “We all have our ways of coping.”

Eddie nodded and tapped his foot uncomfortably. Richie could sense his nerves and attempted to change the subject.

“So are you going to show me your records or are you one of those guys who collects them just to have them?”

Eddie smiled and nodded, then walked over to his collection. Richie looked around some more as the record player was set up, and it sang Rocket Man.

“Elton John?” Richie raised an eyebrow.

“Felt like it was appropriate,” Eddie shrugged, then walked back over to Richie as Elton John sung about how lonely it was in outer space.

“Appropriate for what, a couple of middle aged fags?” Richie snickered, and Eddie rolled his eyes. Kaspbrak let his hands fall to his side, and Richie clenched his teeth. On a whim, he took Eddie’s hand in his and began dancing.

“Are we really doing this?” Eddie chuckled.

“Oh we are doing this,” Richie smirked and placed Eddie’s hands on his shoulders, and put his own hands on Eddie’s hips. They shared a laugh and swayed playfully to the music, then relaxed into each other’s touch and danced flush up against against each other. Eddie could picture it clearly as he leaned his head on his dancing partner’s chest; if they had gone to prom together, it would go a little something like this moment. Of course, beforehand they would have torn up the dance floor to Come on Eileen or something upbeat, and then end the night slow dancing to Elton John. Eddie pulled his head back enough just so their eyes could meet, and Richie could feel himself tense up. Those damned eyes… 

A car alarm went off suddenly, and the two jumped back away from each other a little. Eddie laughed nervously, and Richie glanced out the window from behind the blinds.

“You never get a quiet moment here in New York,” Eddie said quietly.

“Yeah apparently,” Richie closed the window and grinned.

Eddie looked Richie up and down, and Richie grew a confused expression.

“What..?” He asked.

“Last week you told me you’ve loved me since we were kids.”

_ Shit. _

“Yeahh…”

Eddie’s eyes darted around, but always came back to meet Richie’s.

“I didn’t know how to respond to that when you told me.”

Richie sighed and nodded, he felt guilty for putting any kind of pressure on him.

“Look, Eds, I don’t expect you to say it back-“

“I love you too, I have since middle school.”

Richie blinked. Eddie’s stare was dead serious, and Richie swore to himself that he’s had this dream before. He would pinch himself to make sure this was real if he didn’t feel like he could pass out. 

“Jesus…” was all Richie could muster as Eddie slowly approached him.

“So have you like,” Richie was visibly nervous as he asked, “decided on a label or are you still figuring that out?”

Eddie stopped and raised an eyebrow.

Richie continued, “Like,  _ bi  _ or whatever..?”

“Rich.”

“Hm?”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Yeah okay.”

And he did. It was rough at first, nearly a lifetime of suppressed feelings all led up to this, and then it softened into something so tender and loving. Richie brought a hand up to Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie ran a hand through his hair. The feeling of Kaspbrak’s fingers tangled in his hair made Richie choke out a groan, and Eddie had no clue that Trashmouth himself could make such a gorgeous noise. He wanted to hear more.

Eddie didn’t pull away, he interlocked their fingers and guided the two over to where his bed sat in the corner. Richie got the idea and pulled away long enough for Eddie to be able to sit down. He wasn’t sure if Eddie’s hand on his hip guided him down or if he just straddled him out of his own volition, but he was now in the lap of the man of his dreams. Eddie played with the hem of Richie’s shirt as their lips met once more.

“Too much fabric in the way,” Eddie noted, wanting his shirt off.

“It’s cold,” Richie said into the kiss.

Eddie pulled away and pulled his own shirt over his head, then tossed it to the side. The look on Richie’s face was priceless, and it earned a smirk from Kaspbrak.

“There, we’ll be even,” Eddie said in a low tone.

“No fucking fair you have the body of a Greek god meets pornstar. I’m working a full dad bod over here,” Richie’s eyes would not leave Eddie’s frame, he was practically drooling.

“It’s too late to be shy now, Tozier,” and he helped his lover undress, then traced his hands across Richie’s now bare chest, causing him to shiver.

“I t-told you, it’s fucking freezing,” Richie shifted in Eddie’s lap to where they were pressing up against each other. Eddie’s hands slowly shifted down to Richie’s thighs which held on as he rolled his hips forward against Richie. Richie keened, and pressed his forehead into the crook of Eddie’s neck. Eddie took the opportunity of a new angle to plant kisses along Richie’s neck and shoulder.

“You’ll be plenty warm soon,” Eddie reassured as he peppered Richie’s skin with his lips. Richie nodded, and continued to grind down against him, then brought a hand to Eddie’s zipper.

  
  


****

  
  


Bill sat across from Richie at the kitchen table as Eddie made breakfast for the three. Richie’s hair could tell the entire story, but the few marks across his neck and his smiley face as he sipped his coffee were a nice touch. Bill chuckled under his breath as the ridiculousness of the moment.

Eddie soon came over with plates of eggs and fruit and handed them each a plate. Richie gave a thankful look and then winked, to which Eddie rolled his eyes and hid a smile as he sat next to him. Bill began to eat, but was clearly looking the two men over, but they didn’t notice, they were in their own world.

“Well it’s about damn time,” Bill finally said, laughing lightly.

“What?” Eddie was still leaning into the closeted act.

“Ah man, what gave it away?” Richie joked, he looked pleased as punch.

“Hm let’s see,” Bill humored him, “Richie, you look like the embodiment of Brokeback Mountain.”

Richie laughed happily, “Man my ass is  _ destroyed.” _

Eddie choked on his orange juice, which earned a cackle from Richie, who clapped his hands like a goon.

“Oh c’mon Eds I think it's a little too late to play this off,” he said between laughs.

Bill bore a smile that showed complete agreement.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile as well, and he shrugged.

“Well I’m very happy for you two,” Bill nodded, “It has been a painful experience to watch unfold but I’m glad you two finally figured it out.”

“It’s been painful to  _ live,”  _ Richie said as he sipped his drink.

“How do you think I feel? I literally  _ died,”  _ Eddie said with a light shove to Richie’s arm.

“I should be headed back to Cali in the next day or so, you’ll have the place all to yourselves,” Bill said with a soft smile. Richie clasped his hands together and mouthed  _ thank you _ .

“Don’t worry about it Bill, we’ve got the rest of our lives ahead of us,” Eddie smiled at Richie lovingly, and Richie smiled back. 

The strange thing about life is how in your darkest moments, you can never see the light. It might take days, weeks or even months to find your way out, but once you do, you realize one thing; you’re going to be okay.

  
  



End file.
